


Love Always

by rotKaiserin



Category: Joker Game (Anime)
Genre: Canon Compliant, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-23
Updated: 2016-10-23
Packaged: 2018-08-24 02:22:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8352691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rotKaiserin/pseuds/rotKaiserin
Summary: Five letters Kaminaga wrote to Miyoshi and not a single one of them sent.





	

**Author's Note:**

> for something i wrote as practice, this gave me a lot of hell but mmmmm whatever yeah _(:3 」∠)_
> 
> I've been working on two bigger fics lately but I've just been so unsatisfied with all my drafts so far, I thought I needed a break -- or at least a break from writing those fics in particular lol I played with a [shindan generator](https://en.shindanmaker.com/536171) like a month ago and one of the prompts for Kamiyoshi I got was "Write me a love letter sometime" and I was like "nice i can do this later" and well, I guess now is later haha
> 
> Just a thing to note: this kinda works off some headcanons I made for the other fics I'm working on, but all you really need to know is that this follows the childhood friends headcanon ovo
> 
> This is crossposted on my [tumblr](http://dollofdeath.tumblr.com/post/152179998227/love-always-11). Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoy~!! (ˊᗜˋ)

"Write me a love letter sometime," Miyoshi told Kaminaga before his mission, a wink and a smirk accompanying his words.

He hadn't meant it seriously, of course -- it was merely part of the usual banter the two of them shared. If he were to actually receive them, they would inflate his ego even more and Kaminaga didn't need to deal with Miyoshi when his pride reached its peak. Nonetheless, Kaminaga found himself entertaining the thought of it.

The first letter he wrote was written purely out of boredom.

He'd spent the night out, trying to gather intel at a pub. While he managed to make some connections and even hit it off with a couple of women, the whole endeavor didn't meet his expectations. He'd taken a few drinks to tire himself out, but it was a few hours until sunrise and he was still awake.

The smoke of his cigarette and the cars passing by were his only company as he looked out the city of London from his bedroom. He lazily watched the streets, though nothing particularly exciting was happening. Groups of young, drunk people made their ways home and occasionally a couple would stroll by, laughing and whispering sweet nothings to each other. This was London at its slowest, and sometimes the calm silence allowed him to just think.

He wouldn't call himself a sentimental person, but perhaps it was a mix of his tiredness and the alcohol that made his mind wander to the guys back at the Greater East Asia Cultural Society. Four of them remained there, but only three of them had been assigned smaller missions to do. Miyoshi popped into mind, and he remembered the conversations they'd had before he left. Miyoshi was an excellent actor, but Kaminaga could always see through him.

Whether it was out of impulse or his drunken state, Kaminaga put out his cigarette and scrambled to find some paper and pen. He plopped into the chair at his desk, the light of the full moon his only guide as the street lamps blocked out the shine of the stars and he couldn't be bothered to turn on the lights. Then he began.

_September XX, 1939_

_Dear Mi_

He paused there, having already written the first character of Miyoshi's name. He cursed himself for writing without thinking. While not many people here could read Japanese, he knew never to leave any openings for himself. After debating on whether or not he should get rid of this paper, he continued writing.

_Dear Miwa,_

"Miwa." He could work with that.

 _I hope this letter finds you in good health. We don't need you losing your mind from being idle for too long, now do we? It'd be a shame to return home and find that pretty, little head of yours in ruin. It can't be_ _that_ _bad, can it? Your father will find something for you to do soon enough and you have your cousins with you, as busy as they may be._

 _You're not missing out on much, if I had to be honest. The people here make decent company, but they're rather pompous and showy. Sort of like you. No, exactly_ _like you -- but they all pale in comparison. Everyone here likes to think of themselves as high class, but I know you can outdo them even on your worst days._

_I can just imagine you right now, smirking and saying "Of course." It makes me wish I could see it. If only I had some photographs of you with me. Allow me to take your portrait sometime, hm? I know you're fussy about such things, but I'd like something to remember you by. Maybe when I come back home, we can arrange something._

His eyes drifted down to the blank space where his name should go. Slowly, but surely, he signed it.

_Love always,_

_Kazuo_

Finished with the letter, Kaminaga enclosed it in an envelope and sealed it. Then he wrote down the fake name and an address he was once familiar with where the recipient's information should go before writing his own name and address. Setting his pen down, he stared at the letter. It weighed heavily in his hands though it was thin and flimsy, his grip already creating creases.

He could've easily put a stamp on it and sent it out, but instead he opened the bottom drawer of his desk and threw it in, closing the drawer with a louder _bang!_ than necessary. The letter didn't mean much anyways; it was just a way to get him through the night.

* * *

The second letter he wrote was written a week later, after he'd grown tired of sorting out the intel he'd gathered so far.

His laziness would've gotten him extra training as punishment, but even monsters needed a break now and then. Besides, he was kilometers away from Japan, away from Yuuki's terror. He didn't see any harm in taking a few short moments to clear his head.

Writing the letter hadn't been his first idea, but as he cleared his desk off, he found some extra paper. He hadn't even thought about the first letter since wrote it, but now he felt compelled to pick up a pen and write another. Perhaps it was his fatigue or his want to procrastinate, but Kaminaga did just so regardless of the reasoning.

_September XX, 1939_

_Dear Miwa,_

_How are you, sweetheart? I'm fine myself, but things are getting rather busy here. I should be working right now actually, but I decided to follow up on my last letter -- just for you. See how special you are?_

_I'm sure you're having a grand old time without me, but it feels weird not having you by my side. The longest we've been apart was when I went off to college, but you ended up following me anyways. Yes, you followed me. Don't even try to deny it._

_I can picture your reaction right now. Your lips would twitch before you'd say it was just convenient. You never have been honest with your feelings, have you? It's okay though. Your hard-to-get personality is part of your charm. It certainly doesn't make things easy, but where's the fun in that? Seeing your smile is worth more than all the women London has to offer._

_Uncle’s health hasn’t shown any sign of improving, so I'm not sure when I'll be coming home yet. But don't miss me too much, okay? I don't want you to cause your family any more grief with your grumpiness._

_Love always,_

_Kazuo_

He then enclosed it in an envelope and sealed it, writing the same fake names and addresses. Then in it went to the bottom drawer, joining the other letter.

It would've been a good idea to return to his work but all he did was sit there. He stared at where the letter had been, the moonlight emphasizing the empty space. Memories of years past sprang up to mind and it was impossible to stop them once they'd started. Nostalgia didn't benefit him in any way, but he couldn't shake off the feeling.

And here he thought he'd gotten rid of his emotions long ago.

* * *

The third letter he wrote was written shortly after he returned from his mission.

Yuuki had begun his reconditioning hell almost immediately, much to his dismay. Amari and Fukumoto were the only ones he had to talk to, as Tazaki and Miyoshi were sent off on their missions just weeks prior to his return. He wasn’t necessarily complaining. Amari made a good wingman (when he didn’t steal the girls for himself, that was) and he’d dearly missed Fukumoto’s cooking, but he couldn’t appreciate either of them much while his body was still laden with drugs.

Right now, they were fast asleep, leaving Kaminaga alone with his thoughts. He should've been asleep as well, but his mind was too hyperactive for him to get any rest. Both trivial matters and major ones raced through his head, though he couldn't think about anything for longer than a few seconds. Then, he remembered about the two letters left in London and everything came to a halt.

He didn't know what happened to them and it was hard to say if anything would come out of them. Miwa didn't exist and the last he heard, no one was living at the address he used. Writing the letters had been risky, but Kaminaga still made sure nothing could be traced back to him.

If he were thinking straight, that would've been the last thought of the letters to cross his mind. But he wasn't. Surely it was the influence of the drugs, but he grabbed a pen and paper and soon found himself in an isolated room where only the quarter moon’s light poured in.

_October X, 1939_

_Dear_

He blinked, ready to write the characters for "Miwa." But Miwa wasn't needed anymore. Names weren't needed for spies anyways. They meant nothing for those who'd only take up one new alias after another.

_Dear You,_

Though his thoughts were hazy, even he could see how cliché that was. It was no matter. He felt it was fitting, more so than any other name.

_I'm a little hurt. You couldn't have at least waited for me before you left? Just kidding! I know you've been itching to get out there, and I'm happy you're finally getting what you wanted. Don't worry about me. I have some of the guys to keep me company, though they’re definitely not as cute as you._

_Germany, huh? It seems like a rather harsh place for someone like you. But I'm sure you'll fit in just fine. I just can't help but worry about you a little bit, you know? This is your first time out there after all. And this is where I imagine you rolling your eyes and calling me "insufferable." Surprisingly, it doesn't piss me off as much as it usually would._

_It seems like so long since I last saw you, but the calendar tells me it's only been five months. Time sure flies quickly, doesn’t it? Sometimes I feel like I'm forgetting the sound of your voice. Maybe I should get a recording of you alongside that portrait._

_Good luck out there, although I suppose you don't need me telling you that. Just get home as soon as possible. Things aren't the same without you._

_Love always,_

His pen hovered over the closing, his mind trying to catch up with his hand. After a moment's consideration, he set it down.

_Love always_

That was all he needed to write.

He went through the motions of enclosing the letter in an envelope and sealing it, but stopped before he could continue with the rest. What little rationale he had left told him to dispose of the letter. There were three other _very_ capable spies still around and he'd be damned if any of them found it.

Even so, he tucked the letter into his chest pocket, keeping the recipient and the sender blank. Perhaps he needed more intense reconditioning, but Kaminaga didn't care. Not right now, at least.

He'd worry about everything in the morning. For now, he let his unnecessary thoughts run wild.

* * *

The fourth letter he wrote was written after Jitsui's return.

Amari and Fukumoto had been sent off on their missions back in the spring, while Hatano came back in the summer. Things in the Cultural Society weren’t as lively as before, but with Hatano and Jitsui together, it was certainly less quiet. Even then, that didn’t stop the bouts of longing that occasionally struck.

The distractions were plentiful. Yuuki had put him in charge of handling the others' missions -- what Miyoshi had been doing prior to his own mission apparently -- so he had that to busy himself. When he had some free time, he went out to the city with Hatano and Jitsui. Some nights, he went alone, losing himself in women and alcohol. It was all good until he'd return home and see Hatano and Jitsui engaged in conversation, laughing and talking in hushed voices between themselves.

Tonight was one such night.

While Hatano and Jitsui had fallen asleep hours ago, Kaminaga was restless despite how many women he'd danced with and how many drinks he'd had. In his tired state, his mind drifted to the letter hidden underneath his bed, where it laid untouched for the past year. It was a simplistic move -- amateurish, even -- but so simplistic that the others wouldn't expect it from him. At least, that was his reasoning when he put it there.

Writing all these letters in the first place was foolish, but once more he entertained the idea of it. He needed some way to tire himself out anyways, and so he got up in search of a place where he could be alone. Once he was settled with a pen and paper, he began writing, the crescent moon serving as his only light.

_September XX, 1940_

_Dear You,_

_I wonder if you ever think about us back at home. I wonder if you think about me. I'm doubtful, considering how busy you are. Once you put yourself into something, it's all about how well you can do it, isn't that right?_

_It seems like I'm stuck with your old job. I wonder what it must've been like for you to deal with all these files and information everyone sent in. It’s interesting, to say the least. It feels like you're right at my fingertips, but so far away at the same time. I’m not handling your mission, but I managed to learn a few things here and there._

_An art dealer, eh? It suits you, I think. A high class job for a high class person._ _Maybe you should paint me sometime -- a portrait for a portrait. That way we can both have something to remember each other by. I can see you now, crossing your arms and telling me that a photograph can’t possibly do you justice. I suppose you’d be right._

_You should hurry on home, that way I can see you up close. There are just some things that a camera can't capture. Not only that, but  I can also tell you about everything that happened back in London. I'd like to hear you try to beat that._

_Love always_

Finished with that, he enclosed it in an envelope and sealed it, leaving the recipient and the sender blank like the previous letter. He had a few hours until sunrise, but sometimes Jitsui got up earlier than necessary. If he was really quiet, he could slip it in with the other letter and pretend like they didn't exist.

* * *

The fifth and final letter Kaminaga wrote was written after Yuuki broke the news to him.

"Miyoshi is dead," he said in that low baritone of his. Only he could make such words sound so insignificant, as if he were talking about the weather. "It was an accident -- a train crash. He fulfilled his duties to the end."

For once, Kaminaga found himself speechless. He listened intently as Yuuki spoke on, but none of it truly sank in. The only other thing he was able to make out was the details of the mission he'd just been assigned -- something about creating a network in America. It reminded him of Miyoshi's mission and his second thought was of how Yuuki had been building Miyoshi up to be the next spymaster. It seemed clear whom his backup was.

The rest of the day was a blank, and the next Kaminaga knew was that he was out on the roof in the autumn night. The cigarette he smoked did little to alleviate the numbness he felt. Whether it was due to the cold or what happened to Miyoshi, he didn't know nor did he care. The sky he looked up to now was equally as dead, as it was a new moon and the street lamps drowned the shine of the stars. The only sounds he could hear now were the cars passing by, but he imagined that the others were talking amongst themselves back inside. It was their own way of grieving, as they shouldn't -- couldn't -- allow themselves to get caught up in someone's death. Usually he'd be happy to join them, but he couldn't bring himself to put up an act.

Just for tonight, he wanted to be alone. No, that wasn't right. He didn't want to be alone. It was just that the one person he wanted to be with was no longer around.

He took one last drag before throwing his cigarette to the ground and stomping it out. Then he took out a piece of paper and pen from his back pocket and began writing.

_November XX, 1940_

_Dear_ _Miyoshi,_

He wrote with no hesitation. Names held no value, but this was the only name he found that meant something to him.

_It sounds like you had one hell of a trip, but must you make everything so dramatic? Completing your mission in your dying breath? Really? How do you expect me to top that? I suppose you've always been one to set up impossible standards._

_Did it hurt? I know you have a high pain tolerance, but a train crash sounds rather messy and you've never liked messy situations. You managed well enough, obviously, but I wonder how it must've felt like for things to go awry for once. It always did seem like you had everything under control._ _I have to hand it to you though -- and just this once! I'm not sure if I would've been able to accomplish such a feat. You should've at least lived long enough to tell me all about it._

He let out a breath, shaky and heavy. Though his hand was beginning to cramp, he continued on.

_It's funny. You've always been following me around, but now you've gone somewhere I can't follow. That's so unfair. Although, you never did play fairly. Joke's on me, right? I can imagine you laughing at me, telling me that it'd be years before I could even dream of being on your level. I don't want to imagine it though; I want to hear you teasing me, I want to see how your shoulders shake when you laugh._

_It's been more than a year since I last saw you and all I have left are some old photographs of you. If you saw them now, your nose would scrunch up and you'd tell me to burn them immediately. Guess I'll be getting the last laugh, because I'm going to frame them and hang them on the walls just so I never forget how you look like. Of course, they can never beat the real thing, but they're close enough. I'm sure that even as a corpse, you're stunning._

Wet splotches somehow made their way onto the paper and his eyesight grew blurry. He paid no mind to either of them.

_This is where I'd tell you that I hate you -- for being so damn perfect and for leaving me behind -- but I don't. I could never hate you. But you knew that already, didn't you? I miss you, but I bet you already knew that too. Call me a fool, but the fact that I have to keep on living like you never existed hurts. How could I ever forget someone like you? You probably already know this as well, but I love you. Maybe one day I'll get over it, but for now I'll keep loving you._

_Say, Miyoshi. Will you wait for me in the afterlife? Do that for me, at the very least. Just to even things out._

_Love always,_

_Kaminaga_

Just like all the other letters he wrote before, he enclosed it in an envelope and sealed it. For the recipient, he simply wrote "Miyoshi"; for the sender, "Kaminaga." He took out the previous two letters from his chest pocket and stacked them all together. He stared at them, resisting the urge to tear them open and read the contents once more. Then, he pulled out his lighter and flicked it open. The tiny flame flickered about, casting a light in the shadows of the rooftop and providing him the most warmth he'd felt that entire day. Not wasting any more time, he held the letters up to the flame.

Quickly, much too quickly, they caught fire and the pure white envelopes charred into dull browns, the tiny embers on the edges mimicking twinkling stars. The ashes fell to the ground like cherry blossoms on a spring day, and he'd like to think that Miyoshi would rise out of them like a phoenix, but that would be much too easy for him -- his returns needed to be as dramatic as his exits. Higher and higher the smoke rose to the sky. He didn't believe it, but it was truly a nice thought -- comforting, even -- to think that the flames were delivering his words to Miyoshi.

Soon enough, the letters were completely burned up, disappearing from his hands like he'd never written them at all. Darkness returned, the street lamps too dim to reach him, but he felt less numb than before. Eventually he’d have to go back, but his feet refused to move and he found himself looking up at the sky again. Pitch black greeted him, but this time he swore he saw the stars glimmering.

Kaminaga's lips quirked up into a smile.

He didn't believe in signs nor superstition but tonight he allowed himself to do so, if only in an attempt to get some closure. Miyoshi was gone now, and he himself had a mission to prepare for. That was fine by him. He still had to find some way to outdo Miyoshi after all. When the time finally came, he'd be able tell Miyoshi all about it and even more -- without the need of paper and pen.

**Author's Note:**

> this made me realize why i don't write in first person lmao also u ever just remember how bad you are at endings?? dang
> 
> I keep telling myself to focus on other things but I've never been this productive writing-wise like ever??? but *gestures* idk when the next fic will be lol
> 
> Feel free to talk to me on [tumblr](http://dollofdeath.tumblr.com/) or [twitter](https://twitter.com/nighthawkstars)! Thank you again so much for reading~!! I hope you have a wonderful day/night!!  
> (*´◒`*)♡


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